A Little Bit of Home
by MarillaT'Pel
Summary: In Beorn's home, Thorin and Bilbo talk about momentos from their homes


So, I saw The Hobbit and totally fell in love with little Watson- I mean Bilbo! The idea for this came from a book I read years ago called Walk Across the Sea. The title comes from one of Frodo's lines in The Two Towers. This takes place after the rescue by Eagle. I skipped ahead a little ways to where they get to Beorn's house (which I'm pretty sure they will in the next movie). It's a possible conversation I imagined Bilbo and Thorin might have about home while I was reading other such stories. Also, I was wondering a little about Hobbit feet at the time.

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A Little Bit of Home

It had been a long time coming, but the Company was getting a real break for the first time since leaving Rivendale. Thorin mused on the fact that he felt more at ease here, in a far less safe environment due to the absence of all the elves. He knew the other dwarves had varying opinions on that subject, most of them not holding the same level of grudge, if any, against the elves. The Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins had dreamed of seeing the Elves though, and Thorin had seen (and disdained) the way he'd looked back at the city as they were leaving. Mister Baggins was once again pulled out into the wide, dangerous world. Now it seemed he was having difficulty sleeping, not knowing if they were truly safe in this strange hall. Rather than bundle up and go to sleep like the others, he sat by the fire, staring into the flames, fiddling with the tattered waistcoat that he'd finally removed after the Eagles had set them down. Thorin decided to speak to him.

At the beginning of their journey, he hadn't dreamed that he'd come to accept the Halfling as a true member of their group. The Hobbit had been fussy and irritating right from the start, but he was adapting. He was clever of mind enough to stall three trolls, the most shamefully stupid creatures in the world long enough for Gandalf to rescue them. Though, they'd only needed rescue because he'd allowed himself to be talked into going to rescue their ponies alone rather than getting help, but that was beside the point. He'd also been clever enough to escape the creature he referred to as Gollum, who sounded frightful to even the battle hardened dwarves. Then he'd returned to them and had even managed to save Thorin's life and keep the orcs away from him long enough for the great eagles to come. Thorin knew he'd earned his respect, and the same friendly gestures he'd offer any of his fellow dwarves. Bilbo looked up from his ruined waistcoat as Thorin settled down next to him.

"You should rest while you can." He suggested. "We leave in the morning, and we must all be alert."

"I know." Said Bilbo with an apologetic smile. "I was just thinking of the Shire again. I never realized just how comfortable my life was compared to others. I've led a rather charmed life, compared to most of the people I've met since I left." He looked down at the tattered cloth in his hands ruefully. "Even now I can't help but think about the quality and cost of this simple piece of cloth. It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but it's almost a symbol of what my life was before I came here. It was all tea time and dressing nicely and making sure everything was just so." He shook his head. "I must be the most spoiled person you've ever met." Thorin had to smile at that.

"Surely not the _most_ spoiled. And you forget; I was once the prince of a mighty kingdom. I may have been trained as a warrior and a craftsman, but I too had to learn to live without many of the finer things my old life had to offer. But after all this time, the only thing I'm truly concerned with is holding onto my heritage. It's why I still hold onto any piece of my kingdom I still possess." He fingered at the beads tied into his hair as he spoke. "These little tokens represent the life I had before I truly knew war and loss. They remind me of what I am fighting to return to, just like that scrap of cloth in your hands." He gestured at Bilbo's waistcoat. To his surprise, Bilbo shook his head.

"I understand what you're saying, but one piece of ruined finery isn't what keeps my home close to my heart." As if to prove it, he tossed the cloth into the fire and watched the flames catch. "Some of us soft hobbits were raised not to put all our values on things like fancy clothing. I have all the home I need with me in my own two feet." Thorin was torn between being confused and amused by what he said.

"Is that a Hobbit saying?" He asked, thinking it was related the fact that hobbits had uniquely large and hairy feet.

"No…well, yes actually, but it's also a fact." Bilbo then crossed one leg over the other so that the bottom of a large foot was clear in the firelight. He rubbed at the dirt against it, and Thorin began to see that some of the ever present dirt was actually _under_ the tough skin, buried far enough that he almost didn't see it. Bilbo began explaining.

"Hobbit feet harden fairly quickly, but they're as soft as anything else when we're born. Our parents let us learn to walk on the grass and dust so that we'll know, at least at the start of our lives, what our home feels like under our feet. And so that no matter what happens, we'll always carry a little bit of it with us to remind us who we are. Though, I doubt many take it seriously. I didn't really, until I was out of my hole and realized it was the only thing that I couldn't lose or have stolen along the way. I think that's the real purpose of that particular tradition. It was most likely started by hobbits like my ancestor Bullroarer, who actually left the Shire from time to time." Bilbo looked down at his foot with fondness. "It's a comfort, knowing that I've got a little bit of my homeland under me wherever I go."

"That is truly a precious thing to have." Agreed Thorin. He would have said more, but Bilbo seemed to flinch. "Is something wrong?" Bilbo shrugged, looking a little sheepish.

"No, it's just…that creature I met under the goblin kingdom, he talked to himself constantly, back and forth as if there were two separate beings inside one body. His eyes even seemed to change as he went back and forth. One of them kept referring to the other as 'Precious'. It was all rather disturbing. It's hard to believe that someone could be driven to that kind of utter madness." He shuddered slightly. Thorin knew that such thoughts were not going to help quiet the hobbit's mind enough for sleep, so he went back to the subject from before.

"Do you remember where in the Shire you acquired most of that?" He asked, gesturing to Bilbo's foot. Bilbo brightened up noticeably.

"Oh yes." He began pointing at various spots. "The darker specs are from following my mother around her garden while she taught me the difference between the weeds and all the things I was _not_ supposed to be pulling up. The lighter ones are sand from the riverbank, where I used to play almost every day. This one," he pointed at a larger dark spot, "is the end of a particularly sharp twig from when I climbed a tree for the first time. And this," he switched legs as he spoke, pointing to a pale lump on his other foot, "has always been my secret favorite. It's a piece of porcelain from when I accidently smashed my bratty cousin Lobelia's favorite doll. Relations between us have been sour ever since." He chuckled. "If there's one thing I could never miss about the Shire, it's her and that whole portion of the family." Thorin couldn't help but join in the quiet laughter. It was nice, he realized, speaking to the hobbit as he would with any of his friends. Their chuckles died down and Bilbo stood from his seat.

"I believe I'll try to get some sleep now. We won't get along very fast if I keep falling asleep and losing my seat on the pony." He smiled at the dwarf prince. "Goodnight Thorin."

"Goodnight Bilbo." Thorin replied. He watched the hobbit disappear into one of the sleeping rooms and made to get up himself. He thought about what Bilbo had said about being taught to value his homeland. Before he became blinded by his love of gold, Thror had taught his son and grandson to value their craft and their land above what come from it. Thorin remembered the burns he received when he crafted his first sword, and how proud his father and grandfather had been to see them. They had been a rite of passage, and getting them had been one of the proudest moments of his life. The faded scars still reminded him of that time. Perhaps Bilbo would have been interested to hear about them.

He shook his head bemusedly. Bilbo had exceeded his expectations so many times already, it shouldn't have surprised him that he would be the one to remind him what was most important. As Thorin bedded down for the night, he knew that Bilbo would continue to surprise him in good ways. Their journey had been a hard one, and would most likely continue to be hard, but Thorin felt more certain than ever that they had a chance of success. He fell asleep to good thoughts of what the future might bring.

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So, this is sad. I just logged in to post this and for a second, I didn't remember my password. Inspiration for this came on pretty quickly, though it didn't turn out quite like I expected. I just wrote it in under an hour, and I haven't really proofed it or anything, so it's kind of rough. Hopefully some inspiration will come along to help me with the next chapters for Love For Sale and Team Bonding. To everyone who's still waiting on them, I promise I haven't given up!


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